Of course. Here is the English translation of this chapter, which beautifully blends world-building, character interaction, and the subtle, growing presence of the Echo.
---
The city began with the smell of iron and rain.
Wet cobblestones, a low gray sky, signs that flickered intermittently.
The Federal Zone—a small trade sector on the border of the Wastelands.
Sai walked beside Grandpa, huddled in his cloak. The streets were crowded—merchants, mechanical carts, federal patrols.
The hum of voices merged into a single noise.
"Behold, civilization," Grandpa grumbled. "Smells of fish, sweat, and complaints."
Sai looked at him. "What's it to you? You live outside the city."
"That's precisely why I live there," Grandpa replied. "People have become noisy, but not alive."
Sai smirked slightly. "What a grim world we live in…"
Grandpa grunted, not turning around:
"It wasn't always like this."
---
They stopped at a vegetable stall. The vendor—a woman in her fifties with a headscarf and tired eyes.
Grandpa started sorting through the fruit, grumbling, feeling, sniffing.
"Don't take these," he said. "Moldy."
"They're fine," Sai objected. "They look fresh."
"They look it. But they taste like intestinal death."
The woman snorted with laughter, and Sai sighed.
Grandpa always argued even with sellers, as if testing everyone's mettle.
---
Next, they went into a spice shop. The smell of cinnamon and something bitter immediately hit their noses.
Sai stopped by the glass jars.
In one of them, a powder with silver specks lay dark.
"What's this?"
The shopkeeper—a young man with a metal arm—smiled:
"Dust from the Rift. Rare stuff. They say it helps you see dreams."
Grandpa grimaced.
"And it also causes hallucinations, migraines, and sudden stupidity. Don't touch it."
Sai pulled his hand back. "Okay…"
Grandpa took a bag of salt and tossed the seller a coin. "You don't go to a shop for dreams."
---
They stepped back out onto the street.
Sai walked in silence, listening to the wind rushing between the buildings. In the distance, the wall separating the sector from the outer lands was visible.
Beyond it—the Wastelands.
"Are there still monsters out there?" he asked.
"Yes," Grandpa answered shortly. "And some things worse."
"Worse than monsters?"
"People who create them."
---
On the way back, they stopped at a small cafe—old, wooden, with a couple of patrons.
Grandpa sat by the window, placing the bag of groceries beside him.
"Sai, go get bread and hot water," he said.
As Sai stood at the counter, a group of Federation soldiers walked past. One of them let his gaze linger on Sai—on his white eyes.
"Hey, kid," the soldier called out. "What's with your eyes? A mutation?"
Sai clenched his fists.
"No. Just born that way."
"You lying?" the soldier grinned.
"Leave him," Grandpa interjected, not rising from the table. "He's with me."
The soldiers exchanged glances. Then one of them muttered:
"Old man, you'd better watch out so you don't catch it. You never know."
They left.
Sai stood, feeling something dark stir inside him.
The Echo.
Let me…
Let me answer.
Sai blinked. His hand twitched. For a second, a black ripple flickered around his fingers.
He exhaled, suppressed it.
"It's fine… it's under control."
Grandpa watched from the side, silent. Only the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—he understood everything.
---
The road home passed in a drizzling rain.
The world grew even grayer, as if dissolving itself.
"You were angry," said Grandpa.
"A little."
"And you felt the darkness stir?"
Sai didn't answer.
"Good," Grandpa said finally. "That means you're alive."
"You didn't intervene on purpose, did you?"
"Of course. One must learn in reality, not in a basement."
They turned onto the country road. Their home was already visible in the distance.
The bottles of oil and rice clinked softly in the bag.
"You know," Sai said after a pause. "This world, maybe it wasn't always like this… but now it looks like a festering wound."
Grandpa nodded.
"Wounds heal. Sometimes they leave scars. And sometimes monsters grow from them."
Sai snorted.
"That's like philosophy."
"No," Grandpa smirked. "That's just a fact."
---
When they reached the house, the sky had darkened completely.
Grandpa busied himself in the kitchen, and Sai sat by the window. A flash—lightning—flickered outside the glass.
For a moment, he saw his face in the reflection—and next to it, a second one.
Silver eyes.
The shadow smiled.
You were angry. I liked it.
Sai turned away, trying not to look. "Grandpa," he said quietly, "it's like you've been living since that last war. Although… you couldn't have lived this long if not…" He hesitated, looking at the old man, "How old are you?"
Grandpa smirked, quietly, almost through his teeth.
"How old do you need me to be for you to stop counting?"
"No, seriously…" A questioning look played on Sai's face. "How old are you?"
Grandpa sighed, placing his hands on his knees and looking at the night sky.
"Old enough to remember people falling, rising, and falling again. Old enough to see the world trying to heal wounds that never close."
"You won't even give me a number?" Sai frowned.
"Why?" Grandpa laughed, slightly hoarsely, "Do you think a number would make me less alive? I've lived through years most people can't even dream of. But the count doesn't matter anymore. What matters is what I can share."
Sai smirked slightly.
"You look at everything with such… calm. But I know there's something else in you."
"Of course," Grandpa winked. "Without that, what would I do with you, Sai? Sit and wait for you to learn to walk?"
Sai shook his head and laughed softly.
"Is that a joke?"
"A little," the old man shrugged. "But there's a grain of truth in every joke. I've seen the end, seen death and destruction, and now I see you. And it's… fun, if you know how to laugh after everything."
Sai looked at the night sky again.
"Interesting… it's like you're forever living between the past and the present."
"And isn't that the case?" Grandpa grinned. "You see, Sai, I don't live for myself. I live so that someone else, like you, can try again."
Sai looked at him, a strange feeling flaring in his chest—a mix of respect, surprise, and a slight horror.
"Hm… it seems I'm not so alone after all," he said quietly.
"That's good," Grandpa smirked and sighed. "Now go, rest. Training again tomorrow, and I want you to be ready."
Sai nodded, feeling the night softly envelop him. But somewhere deep inside, in his own shadow, something stirred quietly—the Echo had awakened again.
"Goodnight, Sai," Grandpa said softly. "And remember… fear and power are always close, they just don't always listen."
Sai lay down, closed his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt: something inside him was beginning to live its own life.